


Safe Haven Village

by confunded



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Multi, One-sided Cartman/Kyle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-10 23:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12310029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded/pseuds/confunded
Summary: It's the end of the world, and the main boys are forced out on the road to look for a place to ride out the apocalypse with some of their friends. Survival instincts kick in, group breakdowns occur, people die, and Kenny can't seem to catch a break. (Written for the 2013 SPBB)





	1. Radioactive (Kenny 1)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2013, for the South Park Big Bang, and I never got around to posting it here. Better late than never, right? At the time of writing, I was really into The Walking Dead, obviously, so the zombies here are TWD inspired, not World War Z or 28 Days Later style zombies. This story will probably get a bit of a face lift as I read it over again to make it ready for posting, but there will be no major changes from the SPBB version. Lastly, since this an apocalypse AU, Kyle is not diabetic here. It seemed too improbable for him to survive for very long without insulin, proper supplies, and a way to keep the insulin cool, so I decided to cut that part of his character out. I'm pretty sure Matt and Trey forgot that he's supposed to be diabetic, anyway.

### 

###### 

_"Someone is going to tell you to get used to this. That feeling of being scared and sad. They're going to say it'll be better when you learn to ignore it. Don't listen to them. Hold on to it, remember it... Don't let yourself forget it. It's too easy to lose."_  
\- The Walking Dead, Issue #125

**-1-  
-Kenny-**

It started during the camping trip they took after graduation. Or at least, that’s when it reached South Park. Or, fuck it, maybe it started in South Park. It wasn’t as if anyone would be surprised by that. It didn’t matter, really; however it began, the important thing was that by the time Kenny and the rest of his friends drove back into town, something was wrong.

That something being that the town had become infested with zombies.

“What the fuck?” Cartman muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, as he navigated around the slow, stumbling husks. The streets were mostly clear, with only a few of them wandering about, but it didn’t take long for everyone to jump to the same conclusion. The town itself was dark and bleak despite the sunny day, and the only sounds came in the form of undead groans and the hum of the van's engine. Kenny wasn’t sure what to think; usually by the time something like this reached such magnitude in their town, he’d already been dead for days.

The noise from their car attracted a few of them, so they pulled into Cartman’s garage and ran into the house as quickly as possible. Locking the doors could only help so much, so the next step was to gather in the basement and hope that if any zombies broke into the house, they wouldn’t know where to look for the living. Cartman immediately commanded everyone to sit down at his meeting table. It hadn’t been used since middle school, but if anything called for a serious meeting, this would be it.

Kenny wasn’t surprised that Cartman jumped at the chance to take charge, but he wasn’t going to complain about it either. For his part, he wasn’t one to panic in these situations. After all, he’d died in worse ways before - had even been a zombie at one point already - but no one else was so experienced in death and a little guidance was necessary, even if it was from Cartman.

“Did everyone make it?” Wendy asked, her voice shaking.

Kenny glanced around and saw that everyone who had been crammed into Liane Cartman’s van was indeed sitting at the table: Cartman, Stan, Kyle, Wendy (who had gone camping with them because she was dating Stan), Bebe (who had gone because Wendy went), and Butters. And, of course, Kenny himself. He figured they would have noticed if someone was attacked on the way from Cartman’s garage to his basement, but it didn’t hurt to do a quick head count.

“So... what do we do now?” Bebe asked cautiously, once everyone was accounted for. “We can’t stay down here forever.”

She was right, of course, and the room erupted with sound within seconds. Everyone began talking over each other, offering different advice on how to deal with their situation and arguing about it as though any one of them could have been prepared for something like this.

It didn’t take long for Cartman to step in again. “Everyone! SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Silence fell. “If all of you assholes are finished making enough noise to bring hundreds of zombies to my front door, I suggest we get started here.”

He looked around, daring anyone to talk back. No one did. Kenny looked over at Kyle, who was the only one who might have argued, but he was sitting with Stan, silent and petrified.

“First thing’s first... the zombie apocalypse has apparently happened.”

Butters gasped. Cartman rolled his eyes.

“Or maybe not,” Wendy offered immediately, giving Butters an unconvincing smile.

“Whatever, Wendy. You’re welcome to go back outside if you want to, if you _actually_ believe that. But what we just saw driving into town suggests that you should fucking stop babying Butters,” Cartman snapped. Wendy glared, and no one made a move to defend her. After all, Cartman was right. “And Butters, don’t you dare start living in denial because of her. The town is full of zombies, and if the movies are anything to go by, the rest of the world is full of them too.”

“Or it could be like last time,” Stan suggested. “It could just be the town, and we only have to... what did we have to do again?”

“Kill the one that started it all,” Kenny offered bitterly. _Of course_ they wouldn’t remember how that actually ended, _naturally_ , because it involved killing him. He looked at Kyle, the one who did the deed, and judged, by his blank expression, that no memory of it had suddenly clicked into place.

“Right,” Stan continued. “And then everyone else got better.”

“How are we going to find out who _that_ was without just killing all of them in the process?" Bebe scoffed. "We weren’t _here_ when it started!”

“Somehow I doubt this was caused by putting Worcestershire sauce in a dead body instead of embalming fluid,” Kyle said, speaking up for the first time. His face was stark white, and it struck Kenny as odd that of all people, he would be the one most afraid of all this. “And even if it was, we have no way of knowing that without-”

“The Jew’s right, we’re going to have to kill them all anyway.”

“That isn’t what I said, Cartman! There could still be a cure. Just... Bebe’s right, we can’t waste time trying to figure out which one of them will magically turn everyone else back to normal. We’ll just end up killing people who might not need to be killed, who might have a chance-”

“Kyle, please, they aren’t people anymore.”

“They could be, Cartman! There could be a way to undo it!”

“Even if we _could_ do that, Kyle, why would you want to?” Wendy asked. “You saw the ones who were following our car. Some of them had limbs missing and their... you know, their guts hanging out. Curing the zombie thing wouldn’t fix _that_. They'd die anyway.”

“So you’re saying we’re all fucking _orphans_ now?”

The room grew silent, and Kenny finally realized why Kyle looked so scared. While everyone else had been focused on their own safety, Kyle had been thinking about his family's. It started to sink in, for himself and for everyone else, that they all might have to confront their parents and siblings... or what used to be them.

He glanced up at the sound of sniffling, and saw that Butters and Bebe had both begun to cry. Kenny felt his own throat tighten; he wasn’t particularly sad for his parents, who had always been violent, neglectful drug addicts, or Kevin, who had taken an unnatural liking to Karen once she started to go through puberty. Karen, though...

_No._ He shook his head, not wanting to think about what might have happened to his sister. Not yet. _She could still be fine._

“We should go to our houses and look for them. Maybe they’re okay. Maybe they’ve been hiding out somewhere,” he said, and there was a murmur of agreement.

“Or we could always try _calling_ them first,” Wendy suggested, looking like the last thing she wanted to do was leave Cartman’s basement. “Our cell phones might still work.”

“Fine, Wendy’s right. We can call them,” Cartman said before looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “God damn, I didn’t even think about my zombie-mom hanging around upstairs.”

They listened for footsteps and were met with only an eerie silence. Gradually, everyone began to take their phones out, but no one made a move to call anyone. No one wanted to be met with voicemail, or worse - nothing at all, because that would mean the cell towers were out and they'd never know what happened.

“We have to,” Stan said, breaking the silence. He looked around, meeting only frightened faces. Finally, he made the first move and lifted his phone to his ear.

With bated breath, they waited. And waited. And after a minute, Stan let his hand fall to his side, face pale and jaw tight. No one had to ask why. With some resistance, everyone forced themselves to call their loved ones. No one got any answers, only voice recordings or silence. Kenny only heard Karen’s excited voicemail message, which she made that Christmas when she finally got her own cell phone. That was only a few months ago, and now...

“We can still look for them,” Stan said quietly, though to Kenny it seemed more aimed at Kyle than the rest of the group.

Bebe hummed thoughtfully. “I’m going to call Red too. And Annie.”

“That’s a good idea, there’ve got to be some survivors,” Stan replied.

“Don’t say _survivors_ like that, like there’s no hope for anyone who’s already... there could be a cure,” Kyle mumbled the last part, as if he didn’t actually expect anyone to listen to him. They didn’t.

Kenny scrolled through his phone and paused on Craig’s name. They’d been hanging out a lot recently, but he bluntly refused to go on the camping trip, stating that all of Kenny’s ‘other friends’ were extremely lame. Clyde wanted to go because Bebe was going, but Craig put his foot down and Clyde stayed home with him. Kenny had been secretly glad about that, because Clyde was dating Bebe and Kenny had been sort of in love with her for a long time. This trip gave him the opportunity to get some alone time with her, even though it didn’t lead to anything more than good conversation. He regretted being so selfish now; he could have bribed Craig somehow, forced him into going. Then they’d be safe, too.

But there was still a chance, even if it was small. So Kenny called him.

_“...Hello?”_

“Craig??”

Everyone stopped dead and all talking ceased. No one seemed to breathe for a few moments.

_“Kenny? Where the fuck are you? If you’re still camping you’d better stay there because this town is fucking overrun-”_

“Yeah we came back just now...”

_“...Where are you?”_

“Cartman’s basement. All of us. Where’re you?”

_“We’re in my basement.”_

" _We?_ Who...?”

_“I’m with Clyde and Kevin.”_

Kenny thought it was strange that Tweek wasn't on that list. It could only mean one thing, but he wasn't about to ask. He cupped his hand over his phone and turned to the group. “Craig’s alive, and so are Clyde and Kevin. They’re at Craig’s house.”

“Well what're you waiting for? Tell them to get the fuck over here,” Cartman snapped, talking over Bebe’s relieved sobs. “We need manpower and an explanation.”

Nodding, Kenny brought his phone back up to his ear. “Can you get here?”

_“Yeah. If we’re not over in ten minutes, consider us goners.”_

“Don’t say-” A click, and silence. Kenny rolled his eyes, but he was going to be seriously pissed off if they didn’t make it and the last thing Craig did was hang up on him.

“Are they coming?” Bebe asked, and Kenny nodded. She smiled and wiped her tears on her sleeve, and Kenny wished he’d asked her out sometime before all this. Not that he had anything to offer her - he could barely afford to put shoes on his own feet, let alone hers, and Clyde was known to spoil his girlfriends. Besides, Kenny had always known that his unfortunate tendency to have 'extended absences' from life would get in the way of having a real girlfriend.

There was very little talking while they waited for their friends to arrive. No one really knew what to say. Kenny certainly didn’t. There wasn’t much _to_ say, not until they knew more about what was going on, and not while they waited to see if the other three made it to Cartman’s basement alive. He occupied himself with thoughts of Bebe and what might happen if he put his arm around her now, determined not to think about what was happening around them.

After what felt like an hour, but was likely only fifteen minutes or so, the basement door creaked open. “Don’t shoot, we’re human!” came the voice of Kevin Stoley, sounding unnecessarily happy considering their situation.

What they looked like coming down the stairs was oddly unexpected. The three boys were dressed to the nines in survival gear and hunting equipment, all of which looked unnatural on them. Kevin and Clyde were also wearing huge backpacks that contained God only knew what, and Kevin, at least, looked like he was relishing the experience.

Stan stared. “...What.”

“If you’re seriously surprised that we came prepared, Marsh, then you need to think harder about what the fuck is out there right now,” Craig said as he carelessly dropped his crossbow onto the table.

“Tell us then, because we really _don’t_ know,” Kyle snapped, and Kenny suspected he wasn’t sure whether or not to be glad that Craig was alive.

“Four days ago, a couple of them wandered into town and then people just started dropping like flies... I mean, one bite and you’re basically done. Some people tried to rally the town together and fight, but...” Craig glanced at Stan. “It didn’t really work. By that time they just got overwhelmed and... yeah.”

“You’re talking about my dad,” Stan said flatly. Kenny thought he saw Kyle reach for his hand under the table, but Stan moved it away.

Craig nodded. “He did his whole ‘town leader’ thing. But... this is serious. His group was small, too many people turned already and most of the ones who didn’t were too afraid and decided to hide instead. But they’ve all been found by now, too.”

“The whole world’s gone to shit. It was like one day there were news reports of some kind of _outbreak_ and then the next day, nothing. All the TV stations were on standby, and then no radio, and then no electricity...” Clyde trailed off, looking far more put off by everything than either Craig or Kevin did. “We’re so out of the way, South Park was probably one of the last places hit. You're really lucky that you and Craig's cell phones are still working; the cell towers are probably all starting to go out by now."

"Verizon, man," Craig said, shrugging.

“So how did you survive?” Wendy asked, eyeing their arsenal of equipment.

“Kevin.”

“Kevin?”

“Dudes, I was prepared for this thing. I’ve _been_ prepared,” Kevin said in a tone that was absurdly proud. “I’ve had a zombie survival kit for like, years. I tried to convince my whole family, but they thought it was stupid...” His smile faltered, and no one had to ask what happened to them. Kenny realized, then, that Kevin's attitude was probably a coping mechanism of some kind - treat this like a game, or a movie, and none of it had to seem real.

“Is that it?” Butters asked, pointing to Kevin’s backpack.

“Yup. First aid kit, flashlights, spare batteries, my sleeping bag,” Kevin confirmed, ticking off his fingers as he listed. “A hatchet, a few maps, a folding shovel, matches, some dehydrated food, water, uhh... my clothes and shit. Some toilet paper, a multi-tool, a couple of pocket knives, rope, playing cards-”

“Okay we get the picture,” Cartman said. “God damn it, Kevin. And here I thought you were going to show up with your stupid plastic lightsaber.”

“A lightsaber _would_ come in handy for this, _Cartman_. Only a real one, though.”

Cartman rolled his eyes and made a scoffing noise.

“The only thing I don’t have is a tent, because my backpack got kind of full and I forgot to grab my family’s from the basement, you know, in all the... commotion.”

“We still have our tents and all the camping stuff in Cartman’s van,” Bebe said.

“Sweet, so you’re like halfway there for when we go on the road.”

“On the road?”

“We can’t leave yet!” Kyle said, sounding slightly panicked.

Kevin sighed. “We have to go on the road some time. Everyone who knows anything about zombie movies knows that we need to go to the coast or up north or something. If we stay, we’ll run out of supplies and we’ll _never_ be able to thin out the population just sitting here forever.”

“Thin out the population?!”

Stan coughed and gave Kyle a look, ending any further argument against killing the zombies by suggesting, “We could also secure the town and stay here.”

“If South Park was prepared for apocalyptic conditions, I’d say sure. But if you haven’t noticed yet and weren’t listening before, there’s no electricity. Once the sun goes down, you’ll be down here in the dark,” Kevin said, pointing to the couple of hopper windows near the basement ceiling. “No electricity means no heat. Sure it's nice and warm _now_ , but are you prepared to stay here _all winter_ with no heat?”

No one argued with that.

Kevin shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and knelt down to root through it. Seconds later, he produced some maps and dumped them onto the table. “So, there are a few places we can go. First, there’s a government survival center built into Cheyenne Mountain. It was built for nuclear blasts or something but it would totally work for this, too. It would only take a couple hours to get to the mountain and then it’s just a matter of finding the place. If it’s, for some reason, inaccessible or overrun, there are other options. We can head east. There are some bunkers in the D.C. area and the Adirondacks built for national disasters. Either they’re empty and usable, empty and unusable, or they’ll have other survivors. Two out of three of those options sound good to me. Right?”

Everyone nodded, amazed and grateful that Kevin bothered to do research in advance. Kenny watched his finger move around the map and could barely follow what he was saying, only able to process the word ‘survival’. In his experience, surviving seemed highly unlikely, but if his friends could manage it then he’d go along with anything. He’d throw himself in front of a pack of those things if it meant the others would live. _He’d_ always come back, but once _they_ were gone...

“Damn, Kevin, if I’d known you were doing this two weeks ago I would have laughed at you and kicked you in the nuts for being a fucking loser,” Cartman muttered, brows furrowing as he examined the red markings on Kevin’s map.

“Well _someone_ has to prepare for these things. Besides, zombies are cool. Or, they _were_ cool, you know... before they actually happened...”

“Before we go anywhere, you guys need better gear,” Craig noted. “And more supplies.”

“My uncle owns - owned - a gun store.” Stan cringed as he was forced to use the past tense.

“Perfect! We’ll _have_ to go there,” Kevin said as he zipped his backpack up. He stood and slung it back over his shoulder. “Well let’s get going! There are a couple hours of daylight left, I bet we can hit a few houses.”

A few of them glanced uneasily at each other, unprepared to face the reality of what was happening, and, more importantly, the prospect of seeing their undead families.

Wendy was the one to finally voice it. “What happens if we see someone we love?”

“You’re going to have to put them down,” Kevin answered seriously. “Craig and I already have... and then some. It’s been tough. But... necessary.”

“Necessary is putting it lightly,” Craig muttered. He was trying to keep his emotions under control, but Kenny could see the pain on his face. Their eyes locked, but Craig looked away almost immediately.

“Think of it this way - would you rather have them walking around for eternity, decomposing but still moving, never resting and never satisfied? This is more humane. It’s hard to look your mom in the eye and then hack into her skull, but... really, it _wasn’t_ my mom. And it wasn’t my sister. Not anymore. They were walkers.”

“Walkers, Kevin, seriously?”

“We all know that nobody in zombie stories actually _calls_ them zombies. And as someone who owns every volume of The Walking Dead in individual issues _and_ compendiums, I feel most comfortable using ‘walkers’, _Cartman_. Also, way to interrupt me while I was talking about killing my own sister, dude.”

“You actually did it though? What if there’s a cure?” Kyle chimed in, cutting Cartman’s retort off.

“Kyle, my dude, there’s not going to be a cure. There’s _never_ a cure. Even training them like they did at the end of Shaun of the Dead was _really_ pushing it, even for a comedy.”

“This isn’t a fucking movie, Kevin, this is real life!” Kyle shouted, beginning to get hysterical. "You can't know there's _never_ a cure because it _hasn't happened before!_ "

“And honestly, that makes a cure even less likely. Who the hell is going to make a cure? A team of zombieologists who magically all survived and are holed up somewhere in a secret lab?”

That shut Kyle up, which was a good thing. Kenny felt bad for him, but whatever was out there would be able to hear them if they grew too loud.

“Weren’t you upset about it at all?” Bebe asked, her eyes still red and wet. She’d gravitated to Clyde’s side at some point and their fingers were intertwined tightly.

“Not really,” Craig said. “My family was a bunch of assholes anyway.”

“He’s lying, he was upset. And that's okay," Kevin cut in, his hand on Craig's shoulder. "It is sad, don’t get me wrong. It’s just... dudes, in the apocalypse, you do what needs to be done. No use dwelling on it. Personally, it was more upsetting _seeing_ my fam like that than actually doing the deed.”

“We also had to put Tweek and his parents down," Craig added, finally confirming what Kenny suspected. "He had one of those retarded apocalypse kits in his closet too... I thought he was insane when he first told me about it. When this began, I was grateful for it, thinking it would... But it didn't help him. I got to his house too late. I...”

He trailed off, voice cracking. Everyone in the room exchanged looks, not daring to press for more information. Now Kenny really _did_ see Kyle reach for Stan's hand, not visible to anyone but Kenny because of the way they were seated at the table. This time Stan didn't move. Kenny looked back at Craig, and noticed for the first time how red his eyes were.

"It's better this way," he said frankly, though to Kenny it seemed like he was trying to convince himself of that more than any of them. "He would have hated this."

Kevin nodded and then jerked his thumb at the staircase behind him. “We really need to get a move on though. Time is of the essence in an apocalypse setting.”

Reluctantly, they each took up a weapon either from Cartman’s pre-existing stash or Kevin’s, and headed out. It was easier, according to Kevin, to walk to each house, not only because cars made noise, but because the zombies in South Park were spread relatively thin. He also suggested they not split up, even though it meant waiting until the next day to hit most of their houses.

“It's good practice,” he said, just before swinging his hatchet into a walker’s neck. The gurgling sound it made was pretty horrifying, even for Kenny, who was used to the gruesome nature of death. “Once we’re out in the real world, there’ll be a lot more of them. South Park’s so out of the way that mostly all the ones that are here were residents, and me and Craig already thinned out a lot of them.”

Bebe was the next person to actually kill one, and they didn’t recognize him as Skeeter until afterward. They took a left from Cartman's house, much to Kyle's displeasure, which meant Butters' home was their first stop. It was uneventful - Butters refused to go inside for supplies until someone else confirmed his parents weren't there, so Cartman and Kevin went inside first. They returned and said the coast was clear, though Kenny wasn't sure if that meant Butters' parents were gone, or 'taken care of'. For Butters' sake, he didn't ask for clarification.

Quite a few of the zombies they put down on the way to Bebe's house were completely unrecognizable, and it wasn’t long before they decided to avoid trying to identify the bodies if at all possible. 

“Shouldn’t we give them proper funerals?” Wendy asked as they waited for Bebe to gather supplies. Her house was empty, but they remained vigilant as they moved from room to room.

“It would waste too much time and energy. Honestly the faster you stop thinking of them as human, the easier all of this is going to be.”

“Kevin, how the hell did you become such an expert?” Stan asked.

“I don’t _only_ like Star Wars, you know. I’ve watched a lot of movies and read a lot of comic books in my day,” he replied nonchalantly, peering down the basement stairs for any movement. He whistled once, and when there was no response, he motioned for them to follow him down. “The Zombie Survival Guide is in my backpack, you’re all welcome to read it whenever. It’s proven to be super helpful so far.”

“Would this be okay?” Bebe asked after a minute, taking a somewhat rusty shovel off of the wall. Kevin shined his flashlight on it for a closer look and nodded.

“A good skull bashing weapon that also has multiple other uses. Sweet find.”

Once she was ready, they set off to Wendy’s house. On the way, they ran into a zombie that was very clearly Randy Marsh, despite the entrails hanging out of his shirt and his lopsided, unhinged jaw.

Before anyone could say anything to Stan, he’d already fired two rounds with one of Cartman’s pistols - one flew past Randy, but the other hit, causing him to crumple to the ground. There was silence, and Kenny stepped forward to examine the damage.

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “Went right through his eye.”

“ _Its_ eye,” Stan corrected. He looked pale, but his face was grimly serious. “That wasn’t my dad anymore.”

“Exactly,” Kevin said, though he and the others in the group looked uneasy. Witnessing Stan shoot his own father was extremely sobering, even if what he said was true. It wasn't that it happened so much as how easily he did it. Kenny caught Kyle's eye and noticed he looked rather ill.

Kevin cleared his throat. “But, uh, you want to avoid using guns when you can, that’s like, rule number one of not attracting more of them. So it’s good to get used to using knives and shit. We should book it to Wendy's house before any more of them figure out where the sound came from.”

They looked back and saw a couple of them slowly moving toward the group, so there was no argument to doing exactly as Kevin said. Even Cartman seemed to accept that Kevin knew best, at least for the time being.

Wendy's house was empty and gathering supplies went as smoothly there as it had at Bebe's and Butters' houses. It wasn’t until they got to Clyde’s house, with a few more backpacks and an array of unique household ‘weapons’ in tow, that another unsettling event happened: they ran into Mr. Donovan in the kitchen.

“It’s uh... not uncommon in stories for walkers to hang around places they knew in life,” Kevin offered unhelpfully. Clyde stood frozen. The walker groaned as it noticed them.

“I can do it for you,” Craig said, putting his hand on Clyde’s shoulder. They’d all learned earlier that Clyde had yet to do any killing himself - Craig and Kevin had taken to the situation much more naturally. He'd also, until that evening, refused to leave Craig's basement, where he already happened to be when the outbreak started. Craig and Kevin had cleaned out their own homes pretty thoroughly, but this was the first time any of them had been in Clyde's house.

“N-no. I can... you guys wait outside.”

Something about the expression on Clyde's face made Kenny think they shouldn’t leave him alone, but he still ushered the group outside. Despite his uneasiness, if Clyde wished to do it alone, it was best to respect that. They all anxiously waited on the front porch, no one daring to speak or even breathe too loudly. The only sounds were the groaning from inside and Craig muttering ‘damn’ every time he missed a zombie with his crossbow.

“Is he coming back?” Bebe asked no one in particular, and Kenny didn’t have the heart to tell her he wasn’t sure. Clyde wore a look of grim, tired acceptance when they left him inside, as if he was already too drained to deal with everything. Kenny knew that look well; he’d worn it on his own face many times, usually just before he killed himself.

But after a few minutes, Clyde did come back. He stepped outside, covered in blood and clutching his pocket knife. Kenny couldn’t help but notice he also had a gun, one that must have belonged to his family, since he didn’t have one when he entered the house.

“That was my dad,” he whispered hoarsely, blinking tears out of his eyes. He was shaking. “I killed my dad.”

“No, Clyde, you-” Bebe started, but before she could reach him or finish her sentence, he had already lifted the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

A few of them cried out as Clyde’s body fell to the floor, but nothing could have compared to Bebe’s scream.

_And so it begins,_ Kenny thought morbidly. _It's only going to get harder from here._


	2. Dark Center of the Universe (Cartman 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle wants to go on a suicide mission to discover the fate of his family, and Cartman is the only one who wouldn't try to talk him out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic rotates through perspectives, so this chapter is from Cartman's POV! The Kyman in this is quite one-sided, but Cartman is still a creep. (Again, this was written in 2013 and is getting a small facelift for AO3)

### 

  
**-2-  
-Eric-**

If there was one thing Eric wanted to do that night, it was sleep. But between Craig’s crying and Bebe’s crying and Butters’ God damn _crying_ , it was not going to happen easily. It was actually really annoying that everyone was so broken up about Clyde, it wasn’t like he was going to be _any_ help at all when it came down to it. 

Clyde was a total pussy, may he rest in peace.

He didn’t _hate_ Clyde, per se, but he definitely would have been a liability, and if they were going to survive the zombie apocalypse, it was best to cut out the weak links early.

As far as Eric was concerned, the rest of them were probably weak links too, each in their own way. On a scale, he’d have to put himself first, obviously. He was going to be the leader and kick the most ass, and also _get_ the most ass (if he had anything to say about it). Bebe would have been lower on the list if he’d thought about it earlier, but she stepped up when they were going from house to house. Stan surprised him too; Eric would have pegged him as someone who was too lame to shoot his own father. But there was still plenty of time for Stan to pussy out, and he eventually would. After all, it was in his nature.

Craig was clearly going to be worth keeping around for a little while, at least until he became too annoying, or went insane over the loss of his stupid boyfriend and his idiot best friend. Same with Kevin - worth keeping around until he became annoying. At the moment, Kevin knew what was up, so he was a valuable asset. But Kevin was irritating as hell and there would come a time, probably soon, when Eric would be forced to shove him into a herd of zombies as means of allowing the rest of them to escape with their lives.

There was always a sacrifice in zombie movies, after all. Kevin wasn’t the only one who knew about the standard tropes. Usually it was a black guy or a fat guy (or a fat black guy) and since Token was clearly already dead, that left only one option. Well, Eric was certainly _not_ going to be the sacrifice. Time to start a new trend - the Asian sacrifice. Kevin, being the movie buff he was, would surely understand. 

But Eric was getting ahead of himself.

Butters was going to have to die, that much was true. Not only was Butters a useless, annoying person in general, he was also a pussy, and rather unhinged. So he could go one of two ways, and neither option was good: he could get himself killed by being useless (deserved), or he’d lose it and get the _rest_ of them killed (not cool). In contrast, Kenny was pretty chill, and if anyone knew about living in substandard conditions, it was him. He’d probably fucking outlast them all.

Wendy was probably going to end up being a good asset to the team, but more importantly, she was a girl, and girls were going to be valuable down the line if they wanted to start repopulating the world. Even more importantly, she was a _hot_ girl, and Eric had definite plans of banging her before all this was over, Stan or no Stan. If he was going to die - not that he planned to, but _if_ he did - it certainly wasn’t going to be as a virgin.

And then there was Kyle. As infuriating as he was, and even though his people were probably responsible for this epidemic somehow, the Jew was important. He was smart and resourceful and would probably end up being a badass zombie killing machine. That would be hot... and that was all the more reason to get Stan out of the picture at some point.

Eric finally dozed off to sleep that night and dreamed of being the head of a post-apocalyptic tribe. They’d live off the land, hunting and gathering, and he’d have _personally_ killed so many zombies by that point that they wouldn’t even be a threat anymore. Wendy and Bebe would have a bunch of kids by him and also do all the mothering and housekeeping and farming and body burning, and Kyle, unable to have children for obvious reasons, would exist solely for Eric’s pleasure. He’d live like a fucking king with hard working peasant wives and a concubine chained to his bed.

 _Eric,_ Kyle would moan as he was being fucked mercilessly, _you’re so unbelievably sexy when you protect us from the living dead, how would I ever survive without you? Eric! Cartman! Cartman!_

“ _Cartman!_ Wake up!”

Eric jerked awake, ready to kill whoever ruined his dream - but it was Kyle. _Kyle_ was waking him up in the middle of the night while everyone else was asleep. _Oh ho ho, what do we have here?_

He rubbed his eyes and attempted to get rid of his boner through the sheer force of willpower. “What do you want, Jewface?”

“I need you to help me with something.”

Kyle looked so serious and terrified that Eric had no choice but to swallow any sexual comment he might have made. “...Okay, what?”

“Come with me to my house.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Eric hissed as he sat up. He was definitely flaccid _now,_ thanks to the idea of going back out into the infested streets. The plan was to go to Stan, Kyle, and Kenny’s houses the next morning, so this was far too soon, and unnecessary. “In case you forgot, there are zombies, or walkers, or whatever the fuck Kevin wants us to call them, out there waiting to eat us.”

“Shhh, keep your voice down. Just come with me! There’s something I have to do and I can’t do it alone.”

Eric frowned, suspicious. “Why didn’t you ask your _boyfriend?_ ”

“He’s not my- whatever, Cartman, we don’t have _time_ for this. Please, come with me. And without waking anyone up.”

It was so hard to say no to Kyle, especially when he was coming to _him_ for something instead of _Stan_. It was an opportunity Eric couldn’t pass up, even if it was going to get him killed. And maybe if he was really awesome at protecting Kyle, that asshole would realize whose dick he _should_ be pining for.

So he got up and, as quietly as possible, they put on their coats and grabbed their weapons of choice. Kyle chose an axe that had been, earlier that day, hanging by Eric’s workbench. Eric brought his machete, which, ironically, he’d purchased a few years earlier for the purpose of killing Kyle. He also brought his pistol, just in case.

“Want to kill your parents in private too and needed a witness to your suicide?” Eric joked once they got upstairs and out of earshot, though he seriously hoped that _wasn’t_ the case.

“ _No._ And that’s fucking horrible, don’t joke about Clyde.”

“Too soon?”

“It will _always_ be too soon to joke about _any_ of this. Our lives are over now. No one seems to fully _get_ that yet. You think this is a joke and you aren’t even _sad_ about Clyde. Kevin and Craig seem to think this is some kind of video game, totally in denial, and... it’s just... this is serious.”

“So what _are_ you doing then?”

“I want to see if my family is still normal. And if they aren’t... I want to make it so they can’t kill anyone.”

“So why are we doing this alone, at night, instead of with everyone else tomorrow?”

“Because I don’t want to kill them. I just want to hide them.”

“What the fuck? Why?”

“There could be a cure, Cartman!” Kyle snapped, stopping in the foyer. The look he had on his face was so desperate that Eric almost felt bad for him. It must be hard to be so full of hope. For his part, Eric couldn’t really care less about what happened to his mom. He might care if he saw her, but that’s why he hoped to get the fuck out of town _without_ seeing her. Out of sight, out of mind. Eric had always been good at compartmentalizing. 

“You heard Kevin, it’s more humane to put them down. And this cure bullshit is getting annoying.”

“They aren’t sick animals, asshole, they’re _people._ If a cure is found, even if I have to be the one to discover it - and I will, somehow, if it comes down to that - then I don’t want to have to live with the fact that my family died when they didn’t have to. I want to be able to come back here and fix them. I want that option. I _need_ that option, Cartman.”

His eyes were wide. Earnest. It had been a long time since Kyle looked at him that way, like he might actually trust him, at least for a moment. 

“Alright, alright. Fine, I already said I’ll help. It makes no difference to me,” Eric said, holding up his hands in surrender. Partially, he just wanted Kyle to shut up, because he was starting to get emotional and Eric didn’t know how to handle that. Mostly, though, he just didn’t care, because he knew there wouldn’t be a cure. For all they knew, they were the only survivors, and the only way to fix anything would be to start exterminating.

“Good. And by the way, I didn’t ask Stan to come because I knew he wouldn’t understand. You saw the way he killed his father today. He doesn’t think there’s any humanity left inside them,” Kyle said, moving toward the front door. “He wouldn’t have let me do this.”

“And why did you think I would?” Eric asked, watching the back of the shorter boy’s head. It didn’t need to be asked, really. He’d always had a nasty habit of encouraging Kyle to do stupid things that might get him killed, but in this case, admittedly, maybe he should have done it Stan’s way and put his foot down. But then, Kyle probably would have done it anyway.

Kyle swung the door open. “Because you don’t care about me,” he replied simply, and stepped outside.

_Oh how wrong you are._

They moved in relative silence, keeping close to the houses and checking around corners. Kyle made his first kill on the way, though it took two swings of the axe to really get the damn thing to stop moving. The disease, if that’s what it was, certainly made bones a lot softer, but crushing skulls was still going to take some effort. Eric thought it was pretty hypocritical for Kyle to be fine with killing other zombies but not his own family, but he wasn’t about to comment on it and start a loud argument in dangerous territory. 

“I’m surprised you can even lift that axe,” he whispered, watching Kyle attempt to wipe the blood off his jacket. He’d decided not to point out how, by Kyle’s logic, he technically just committed murder, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t say something more lighthearted. “You probably weigh less than Bebe’s titties do.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m stronger than I look. You of all people should know that, given how often I’ve had to punch you.”

“I don’t need your sass, I can turn back at any time.”

“Then don’t make fun of me.”

When they got to Kyle’s house, the first thing they did was attempt to see inside without actually going in. Eric watched for walkers while Kyle checked the windows, and it wasn’t long before he heard Kyle inhale sharply.

“They’re just sitting there,” he whispered.

“Are they...?”

“I can’t tell, they aren’t moving.”

“We’ll just have to go in and find out. You didn’t see any others?”

“No.”

Kyle struggled with his house key. His hand was shaking so badly that Eric finally just took the key from him and opened the door himself. He held it open for Kyle, something that might have gotten an offhand comment in a less serious moment, and closed it quietly once they were both inside.

The light from the moon outside barely did any good, but luckily they both knew the house well - Kyle from living there, and Eric from years of sneaking in uninvited. “If they’re zombies, what’s your plan?”

“I was thinking I’d lure them to the basement and lock them in.”

“And get yourself killed? Kyle, wait,” Eric hissed, grabbing him by the shoulders and staring down into his face. “Do you _seriously_ not understand that those things in there are not the normal parents you know and love? Your crazy Jew mom is not sitting in that living room plotting ways to be a nuisance to society. Your dad’s not dreaming about his piles of secret riches. They will _not_ pop up and come running over, glad to see you’re alive and ready to shower you with hugs and kisses. They _will_ , however, come running to tear your guts out and slurp them up like spaghetti. You’re not usually an idiot, don’t start to be now.”

Kyle nodded, blinking back tears, and Eric almost felt bad for being so blunt. Almost. He enjoyed making Kyle cry too much to _actually_ feel bad. 

“Get off,” Kyle said simply, and Eric let him go. “They’ll follow me to the basement. You go open the door and get ready to shove them down the stairs.”

“... Alright. Don’t die, okay? I don’t want to be held responsible and cast out of the group before we even leave town.”

Eric thought he saw a flicker of a smile on Kyle's lips, but he blinked and it was gone, along with Kyle, around the corner. Knowing there was no time to waste, Eric dashed to the basement door and flung it open. He could hear Kyle saying “Mom?” as if she was actually going to be alive, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. _Idiot._ Flattening himself against the wall, Eric took a deep breath and waited.

Seconds later, Kyle rounded the corner in a sprint, his walker-parents following suit at a slower pace. _Well they certainly sprang into action_ , Eric thought grimly.

“Now, Cartman!” Kyle yelled, leaping past him to hide on the other side of the door. Mr. Broflovski got there first, and Eric easily grabbed onto his shirt and tossed him down the stairs. He landed somewhere in the darkness with a loud crunch and Kyle let out a sob that made Eric’s heart wrench.

The last thing he was going to do was let Kyle get bitten, especially not by someone he hated as much as Sheila Broflovski. She lumbered toward them, and Eric was prepared to wrestle with her if he had to. Not only did she make an extremely horrifying zombie, she was also much heavier than her husband, so when Eric pushed her, she didn’t fall so easily.

Instead, she turned her focus to him. He thought she was hideous before, but with blood and rot covering any exposed skin, she was completely disgusting. He grabbed onto her arms to keep her gnashing teeth away from his face and drove her backward as much as he could. By that time, he could see that Kyle’s dad was already coming back up the stairs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he shouted, unsure how he was going to get her off of him without killing her. The smell of her was starting to get to him, and she was fucking _strong._ “Kyle, the door in three, two...!”

He lifted his leg and shoved his foot into her stomach as hard as he could, letting go of her arms in the same moment. Thankfully, _very_ thankfully, she stumbled back just enough to lose her footing on the stairs. She fell back into the darkness, knocking her husband down in the process. And then the door slammed shut and it was over.

Eric sprang forward and twisted the lock as Kyle sank to the floor, sobbing. He wasn’t really sure what to say or do, his first instinct being to laugh or make a joke at Kyle’s expense. But that would definitely not go over well, and he didn’t really want to be thrown into the basement too.

“Kyle-”

“Don’t. I’m fine.” He clearly wasn’t. After a moment, there was a loud bang against the door that caused Eric to jump and Kyle to cry out, springing to his feet.

“Maybe we should block the door,” Eric suggested, not wanting Kyle to notice that he was shaking with fear.

“Y-yeah.”

Together they pushed the couch all the way from the living room to the basement door, attempting to ignore the blood stains and the stink of newly decomposing bodies that permeated the fabric. On top of that, they piled on an armchair and the coffee table, and shoved the dining room china cabinet in front for good measure. By the time they were done, they were exhausted and breathing hard, but the banging on the door and the accompanying groans persisted.

“Do you think they’ll starve down there?” Kyle asked when they were more composed, and Eric couldn’t _believe_ he was still concerned about them after what they just went through. If anything, being up close and personal with zombie-Sheila convinced him even more that human beings were the _last_ thing these creatures were. In fact, he wasn’t sure why the hell he didn’t just kill them. That would have been easier, and Kyle would have gotten over it someday, if he knew what was good for him.

“Nah,” he said, and it wasn’t just to comfort Kyle. As far as he knew, zombies didn’t starve. At least, they didn’t in the movies. Those two gross fucks would be down there moaning and groaning for years to come. “They’ll be fine.”

Kyle sighed. “I guess I should get some of my stuff so we don’t have to come back here tomorrow.”

Eric followed him upstairs, and the house was eerily quiet once they were away from the basement. He watched as Kyle packed some clothes and necessities, as well as some other things - pictures, primarily, something Eric hadn’t thought of at all. Kyle took his copy of _The Great Gatsby_ out of his bookshelf and slipped the pictures and papers inside. Eric didn’t see what the photos were of, but he was willing to bet they were of his family and probably Stan, that asshole.

“I should take a picture of my mom with me when we leave,” Eric said, the tenderness in his voice surprising even himself.

Kyle looked up like he’d forgotten he was even there. “Oh, yeah, you should. You’ll want something to remember her by if we live through this.”

It was comments like that that made Eric wonder if Kyle truly believed in a cure, but he didn’t say anything. But once they moved on to the bathroom and Kyle packed a bunch of girly looking hair products, he couldn’t hold back from joking any longer.

“Planning on doing an Herbal Essences commercial sometime soon?”

“I don’t use that crap, and no." Kyle sighed and ran his fingers through his red curls. Eric had spent many nights in recent years wishing he could do that. "I’ve worked hard to get my hair to this point and I’m not turning back now just because the world is ending.”

“Christ, you’re such a fa-”

“Wait!” Kyle hissed, shoving Eric’s shoulder to cut him off. “Do you hear that?”

There was a soft creaking in the ceiling, almost as if... “Footsteps.”

Carefully, they entered the hallway and followed the sound to the entrance of the attic. The footsteps seemed to stop as soon as their own did, and for a moment Eric thought they imagined it.

“Kyle?” It was soft, hard to hear through the ceiling, but it was there, and certainly not imagined.

“That’s my brother,” Kyle whispered, looking too stunned to move. “That’s Ike’s voice! Ike!”

He jumped to grab the drawstring and yanked the ladder down, and sure enough, crouching at the top of the stairs was Ike Broflovski. Eric couldn’t believe it. Ike nearly fell off the ladder in his rush to get down, and the moment his feet touched the floor he launched himself into Kyle’s arms.

“You’re alive!” he cried, unashamed of his tears. “I thought I’d never see you again, I thought I’d die up there, I was so scared, I-”

“It’s okay, shh, you’re safe now. We all made it back from the camping trip - we’re gathering supplies to leave town and find a safe place to stay. Have you been up there this whole time?” Kyle asked, his own eyes shining.

“Ever since mom and dad... I didn’t stay long enough to see them, you know... I don’t think they ever figured out I was up here. Are they...?”

“We put them in the basement. I couldn’t just...”

“It’s okay. I don’t blame you,” Ike said, composing himself quickly enough and detaching from Kyle. “Except it’s probably better to kill them. Where are you staying? The whole town’s overrun - I could see it from the window.”

“Cartman’s basement.”

Ike looked at Eric like he only just noticed him.

“A Jew hiding in an attic, big surprise there, heh,” he said, having felt the need to comment on that since the moment Ike came into the picture. Kyle rolled his eyes.

“Can we go?” Ike asked, turning back to his brother. “I’m starving, I ran out of snacks two days ago.”

“Pack some stuff from your room first. We’re not coming back here, so take whatever you think you’ll need.”

While Ike was doing that, Eric kept an eye on Kyle. He certainly seemed happier now that he knew his brother was alive, but all Eric could think about was whether or not a twelve year old kid would be a liability. Ike _had_ proven himself useful in the past, though, and having a genius around couldn’t hurt. And Ike was pretty okay, for a Jew.

And anyway, if Eric could take an ounce of credit for helping Kyle find his brother, he was prepared to milk that for all it was worth. _He_ was there for it, not Stan. He made Kyle happy, maybe even for the first time. It felt good, better than it felt to simply get a rise out of him.

On their way back, they only had to take care of two walkers, both of which were Eric’s kills. The machete proved to be very useful, and he got to pretend he was protecting Kyle. Even though the Jew was capable of doing that himself, Eric knew he was too focused on Ike to properly dispose of any threats, at least for the time being.

Sneaking back into the basement without waking anyone up was easy enough. They grabbed some bread and peanut butter from the kitchen before heading down, and Ike quickly scarfed down the first sandwich before falling asleep next to Kyle in the middle of eating his second.

Eric watched Kyle wrap up the bread to keep it from going stale, which he thought was ridiculous until it occurred to him they needed some food to bring with them. After a minute or so, he realized Eric was staring at him and looked up.

Eric quickly pretended he was looking at the wall instead.

“Hey Cartman?” His voice wasn’t angry, or even annoyed, which took Eric by surprise.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming with me. I couldn’t have done that alone.”

“Yeah, well, couldn’t have you running off to die.” He was glad it was too dark for Kyle to properly see the blush on his face. “You owe me one now, though, remember that.”

“Right. Well, goodnight, Cartman.”

Eric dreamed again before dawn came, but this time Kyle was fighting by his side rather than acting as a sex slave, and he sort of liked it better that way.


End file.
